Suicidal Confessions

Going to a concert as a teenager you always get excited at the opportunity to meet your favourite band, your hero. You have this speech written out in your head of exactly what you’re going to say and do but once you actually see them all that goes out the window and your stuck standing there looking like a fish with your mouth opening and closing. You’re scared to ask for a photo or a hug, worried they would think you’re a loser. You’re also thinking about what if they aren’t like you image them, like what if they are rude. What if they don’t want to talk to you and just walk away?

So that’s why I'm so awkward when meeting fans. I don’t want to ruin their image of me, what if I accidently say something or maybe not do what they expect me to? I'm not a social person as it is and when people run towards me and start asking me questions I freeze up and don’t know what to say, this happens about nine times out of ten.

We were currently doing a signing at the AP tent and my hand was starting to go numb and my thighs were hurting from standing up and sitting down from giving people hugs. It was weird, growing up Beau was the only person who would hug me but now I had hundreds if not thousands of people wanting to hug me… it was a good feeling. Being appreciated.

The next person in line was a girl, she looked around fifteen with long brown hair and innocent blue eyes, she looked nervous. Her hands were full and shaking.

“Hey” I said smiling at her hoping to calm her nerves.

“Hello” she said back her voice quivering and I saw her eyes start to well up.

“Um, I made this for you” she said and pretty much flung a piece small woven wristband nearly dropping her cd and bag out of her small arms in the process. Picking the wristband up from where it landed in front of me I began to spin it seeing it was purple and black – my favourite colours.

“I love it! Here” I said taking one of my bracelets off my right arm and handing it to her. Her trembling hand reached out and I tied it around her wrist before grabbing the cd out of her hand and signing it.

“C-a-an I have a h-u-ug” as soon as she said it I was on my feet pulling her into a tight hug. She stopped shaking as soon as I held her and she clung to me and I felt tears fall from her eyes.

“You saved my life” she whispered before pulling back and moving to Beau who was sitting next to me, I didn’t even get a chance to reply before she was out of sight.

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Later that night that’s all I could think about while we drove to the next show, did I really save her? Did I music, something I wrote, really help someone? Music saved me. It wasn’t a band in particular that helped me but just music in general, being about to express yourself in a beautiful way. Instead of destroying you can create… well that’s what Beau told me when we first started the band.

It feels great to know that people care about your work, something that you worked so hard for. It’s a self-esteem booster that’s for sure. Yet knowing that it SAVED her made me sad… its means she needed to be saved which is never a good thing. You shouldn’t have to be saved because that means you’re in danger. I mean look at me, I needed to be saved and nearly died in the process.